


Goodbye

by Ivori



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Derek Hale - Freeform, Everyone is Dead, I didn't mean for it to be this sad, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Scott McCall is too good, and i can't tag, can be read as Derek/Scott if you squint, he's so precious, it's fucking sad I'm sorry, post S3B, scott McCall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivori/pseuds/Ivori
Summary: Scott McCall never asked for any of this.--No-'. Scott gasped, and he caught his best friend, his brother, before he hit the floor. His voice cracked. 'No, Stiles, not you too, I can't lose you too, Stiles, please-'And curse his werewolf hearing, because he knew when Stiles' heart stopped beating, when his lungs stopped frantically gasping for air.His sobs were lost in the echoing corridors of the school, and his howl was lost in the stillness of the night.





	Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Damn, guys, I'm sorry. This is so fucking sad and I knew it was gonna be sad but I didn't mean for it to be /this/ sad. 
> 
> So yeah, have some really horrible feelings because I'm a horrible fucking person?
> 
> Warnings are at the end.

 

 

Scott McCall never asked for any of this.

He never asked for an insane alpha werewolf's bite, never asked for stalker dudes that controlled lizard creatures, never asked for a blind man named Deucalion or his evil pack.

He certainly didn't ask for an ancient Japanese fox spirit taking over his best friend.

'Stiles, are you sure?' He gasped, holding a hand to the deep scratches on his chest. They weren't healing like usual, and _fuck his life_ because that wasn't a sentence he'd ever wanted to think. Stupid Oni blades.

'It's an illusion.' Stiles said, and that was enough for Scott. If Stiles said so, then so it was. Because Stiles was his brother.

The Oni cut and sliced him up, and his heart beat frantically as he heard Kira whimpering just behind him. He wanted to reach back and take her hand, take her pain, but it was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

He wasn't surprised when the illusion was shattered. He wasn't surprised when the Nogitsune, still wearing Stiles' face, took off after his brother in a fit of rage.

He wasn't even surprised at the anger that courses through him as he followed Stiles' idea of a 'Divine Move'. Blood burst into his mouth as his fangs pierced the Nogitsune's skin.

_Change the host._

It worked. He wanted to laugh, except there was still something inside him that was so broken, after holding Allison's body in his arms. So instead he turned to pull Stiles into a hug.

Except Stiles was falling, his face deathly pale.

'No-'. Scott gasped, and he caught his best friend, his _brother_ , before he hit the floor. His voice cracked. 'No, Stiles, not you too, I can't lose you too, Stiles, _please_ -'

And curse his werewolf hearing, because he knew when Stiles' heart stopped beating, when his lungs stopped frantically gasping for air.

Lydia's scream didn't even bother him as he rocked yet another body back and forth, tears streaming down his cheeks. Not Stiles too, please, come back, _come back to me, I can't lose you too._

His sobs were lost in the echoing corridors of the school, and his howl was lost in the stillness of the night.

 

 

\--

 

 

 

There were three funerals. Scott was numb throughout the whole day, unable to even care that he was still crying or that his head was hurting so bad he could hardly see.

Aidan's funeral was hard, because he could see Ethan's hunched shoulders and the hollow look in his eyes. He wondered if that same look would be reflected in his own if he bothered to look in a mirror.

Allison's funeral. Scott was supposed to say something, but as soon as he got up to the podium his throat had seized up and he had to be excused from the entire ceremony because he was losing control of his wolf.

At Stiles's funeral, Scott did lose control. Thank god the Sheriff had understood, thank god he wasn't meant to say anything, thank god he was allowed to sit in the back, away from prying eyes and shallow condolences.

His claws were tearing into his own palms and his breathing had gotten out of control before there's a steadying hand on his shoulder, a lifeline, an anchor, and he can suddenly breathe again.

Derek. Derek came to Stiles' funeral. Scott clung to him in a way most would probably view as pathetic, but there was _no one left_. Isaac was gone with Chris as soon as Allison was in the ground, Ethan had vanished, Kira hardly spoke to him anymore because her family was packing up and moving back to New York, and Lydia was in England with Jackson.

And Scott was alone. Even more so when Derek whispered that he was leaving, too.

 _'Do I even have a pack anymore?_ ' Scott asked, his voice strangled and hoarse. Because the bonds that once filled his chest were quiet now, so quiet that Scott wanted to vomit.

Derek was still and silent, then answers, 'No.'

Scott just nods and after Derek stood and left he closes his eyes and sobs once more.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

Derek had the right idea, he thinks to himself as he watches Sheriff Stilinski take another swig of the bottle. Leaving, just getting out, putting Beacon Hills and it's nightmares behind him.

His mom reaches over to take the bottle from John, but stops, her face twisted with grief. In the end, she does take it from him, but it's only so she can take a sip of it herself.

Scott gets up from where he's been laying on the couch and sits at the table, wordlessly holding out his hand.

His mother pauses, obviously debating internally, then passes the bottle to her seventeen-year old son.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

Scott McCall never asked for any of this.

He never asked for the pain of loss, never asked to watch his friends get buried beneath the cold earth, never wanted to be anything but a normal kid who did normal things.

He watches his mother, slumped over the table, hands twining with the Sheriff's, empty bottle of jack laying beside them.

The alcohol had done nothing to numb him, it had just tasted foul and made him want to throw up.

It wasn't fair. He had suffered too much. And he was done.

Suicide wasn't a solution, he'd heal too quickly and he had no intention of trying to find any wolfsbane bullets in the empty Argent household. He doubted he'd find any, even if he looked. Chris was too careful. Always had been.

Had a right to be.

So Scott leaves, following whatever trail Derek had left. He isn't sure if he plans on actually finding the Beta werewolf, just... Having something to focus on, to track, it was the only thing left for him to distract himself with. Because God knows he needs a distraction.

He doesn't say goodbye. Not even in a note. He just heads home, packs a bag, gets on his bike, and drives off.

There is nothing left for him in Beacon Hills, and he cannot bear to stay any longer.

So he leaves, dust flying into the air as his bike roars down the freeway.

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

'What have we here?' A nasally voice says, and Scott twists to look at the huntress. A pang goes through him when he sees that she's carrying a crossbow.

Her lover steps out of the forest behind her, grinning like a mad man.

Scott could escape. The trap that has its jaws around his ankle is meant for much smaller prey, but the wolfsbane had forced him into it. And anyways...he's tired. After losing Derek's scent a few days ago, and then his bike giving out on him and puttering to a very final stop, he had just started walking. His legs hurt and his chest hurts, but he's finally stopped crying, so there's that.

'A lost little Omega. How sweet.' The huntress says, and Scott has to look away. He can't help but see Allison in the way she holds herself, and he- he just _can't_. It's too soon.

'Let's put him out of his misery.'

Scott closes his eyes. He's been crouched around his ankle, but now he stands, shifting forward so he can lean his forehead against the arrow that's been drawn back on it's string. At least they'll make sure he dies, make sure he doesn't heal or can't come back. At least it'll be over, and everything will be quiet.

 _I'm coming_ , he thinks. _I'm coming, Allie. Stiles._

He can feel blood slipping down his nose, the arrow is so sharp. It'll be fast, then he'll finally be at peace.

He dimly registers the hunters laughter, but then a growl rips through the air, and Scott whips his head around, eyes blazing red.

'Holy shit, an Alpha!' The lover says, and that's all he will ever say, because suddenly his hands at at his own throat as blood gushes between his fingers.

The huntress screams in anger, her bow lowering as she goes to hold the man, but then there's a snap and she falls to the ground.

A familiar scent hits Scott's nose and he looks up from the bodies into two glowing blue eyes.

'Derek.'

Derek steps out of the shadows, wiping the blood on his hands into his jeans. He looks just as weary as Scott feels as he bends down and rips the jaws of the trap off their hinges and tosses them to the side. 'You've been following me.'

'Yeah.' Scott says, wincing as the bones in his foot shifted while they healed. He shoved his hands in his pockets. 'Sorry.'

'It's okay.'

A silence fills the air, one that Scott has become very familiar with. He imagines Derek is familiar with it, too.

'Why did you leave?' He asks, looking at the leather-clad Beta.

Derek looks down, eyes closing momentarily. 'There was nothing left.'

Scott nods. 'Yeah,' he says again. They stand there, watching as blood leaked from the lover's neck and into the forest floor.

The sun slips behind the mountains and the moon rises into the sky before either one of them speak again.

'Have you been living anywhere?' Scott asks.

'I stay in motels. Can't settle.' Derek grunts.

Scott understands.

It's another moment before he takes a deep breath and whispers, 'Can I come with you?'

Derek's silent for a moment, his eyes glowing blue so he can see through the darkness. 'Yeah.'

 

 

 

\--

 

 

 

They are accepted into an older pack a few years later, their faces weary and their shoulders heavy with the weight of their pasts. They're both Betas now, after Scott had killed one of the Furies that attacked Derek his eyes had lost their true alpha crimson. Apparently true alphas didn't kill.

It hadn't bothered him.

Being in a new pack does, however. He and Derek had always travelled in silence, only speaking when necessary, or late at night. His new packmates are not silent at all, they're full of life and happiness and an innocence that comes with not knowing sorrow.

Only Derek understands, but the hunters and the monsters had caught up to them one time too many, and both men knew they wouldn't survive on their own anymore.

They still share a room, sometimes a bed if the nightmares are bad enough. They're close in a way that only loss can create, and Scott will be forever grateful that he found Derek. That he is not alone.

They're still so new that when Derek is killed by hunters, Scott is the only one that mourns.

After that, he gives up. It's too much, it's too much. His new pack let him go, and he starts walking, leaves crunching underfoot. Staying in motels overnight, or sleeping beneath the stars when the weather allows.

Because it's too much. He's a shell of the happy-go-lucky boy who snuck into the woods with his best friend. The numbness had become all too familiar.

In a way, he welcomed it. At least he didn't cry, not anymore.

He's got nothing left.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for brief mentions of suicidal thoughts and a general 'I've given up' attitude.
> 
> Anyways, sorry for such a sad little ficlet. Unbeta'd, so mistakes are mine, and I posted on mobile so...yeah.


End file.
